


Show me I’m yours

by BlueBoxDetective



Series: A feeling Angel and an angelic Human [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Experimenting with control, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 22:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBoxDetective/pseuds/BlueBoxDetective
Summary: Cas has a new idea for being intimate, and Dean is more than happy to go with it.





	Show me I’m yours

“Sam has just left for Jody’s,” Dean informs his angel as he walks into the kitchen. He grabs the cup of coffee that Cas is holding out to him with a somewhat appreciative noise and flops into the seat opposite of the angel.  
“Is that so?” Cas asks while raising an eyebrow and Dean, still not awake enough to have a real conversation, just mutters confirmation. When he looks up from his cup he does notice Cas watching him though, and he spots the angel’s lower lip caught in between his teeth. Dean has no idea where or when Cas had picked up that habit, but damn, the sight goes straight to his groin.  
Pretending to be completely unphased he asks: “Something on your mind?”  
“Maybe,” Cas responds, his eyes locked with Dean’s. The silence grows as they stare at each other, and Dean will never get over the way how intimate that feels. Cas’ eyes shine in a bright blue and burn right into his soul. He breaks away when he notices his face getting hot and blood rushing into his nether regions.  
“What, you’ll just leave it at that and let me hanging?” The hunter complains, and the angel has the nerve to smirk at him.  
Cas puts on a straight face and explains: “I do recall that you had plans to clean your guns today. Not under any circumstances do I want to get in your way.”  
Dean exaggerates the roll of his eyes. “I might be able to postpone that, if I find something better to do.”  
“Absolutely not,” Cas states and gets up from the table. Dean groans in frustration when Cas places his empty mug in the sink. On his way out the door he whispers into Dean’s ear: “I have some… research to do. If you want to, find me when you’re done cleaning.” The angel locks eyes with him as he pulls away, his pupils dark and a mysterious gleam in his eyes.  
“You’re such a tease!” Dean calls after him once he has found his voice. He can hear Cas laughing down the hallway.

Needless to say, the process of cleaning his guns is rushed that day. He does love his guns, but he’d love to know what Cas has in mind even more. His thoughts start wandering off on their own, coming up with different kinds of scenarios. What could an angel of the lord, who is sexually more or less inexperienced, research and want to try with him? He can’t remember anything in particular that they had planned on doing or talked about wanting to try in the future, so he comes up blank. Cas hadn’t shown any special interests yet, he seems to like about everything that they did so far. Well, he does have a thing for Dean praying to him, but they have done that plenty of times. That’s nothing that would require such a setup. The other thing Dean had noticed that Cas was quite fond of their wings, but not in a weird way. And he probably couldn’t do any “research” on that.  
It takes him longer that he would admit to notice he has stopped cleaning all together and is just staring at the table. In consequence he packs up, storing away his guns and cleaning supplies. He has done most of his guns, he never said he would do all of them.

He finds Cas in the library, the screen of his laptop sadly turned away from the entry. Dean is just too curious. When Dean steps though the doorway the angel looks up and gifts him with one of his rare smiles, and Dean couldn’t resist returning it if he wanted to.  
Cas has the laptop closed before Dean reaches him and drops into the chair next to his.  
“Guns cleaned?” Cas asks him.  
“Sure,” Dean is quick to reply, “what have you been up to?”  
Ignoring his words Cas raises an eyebrow and questions: “Really? That seemed rather quick to me.”  
“Never said I’d do all of them today,” Dean mutters and shoves Cas playfully. The angel’s lip twitches before he turns his chair to face Dean.  
“All right,” Cas folds his hands in his lap in a familiar gesture, “I have read about the topic and I do think that we would enjoy it, but I want to talk about it with you first.” Dean pulls a face at the mention of talking and Cas shoots him a stern look. The hunter doesn’t say anything, but can’t resist rolling his eyes. After a second of silence Cas adds: “If you want to, I mean.”  
“Of course I want to,” Dean responds and tries not to sound embarrassed, “after all that setup you better get talking!”  
If he isn’t mistaken, Cas’ cheeks turn a darker shade of red as he nods. The angel clears his throat, surely not something that he has to do but a habit that he has picked up from his time as a human. Expectantly Dean leans forward in his chair.  
“So…” Cas stutters, “I have noticed this a couple of times, but we never really talked about it. When I looked it up, I realized there is a lot more to it than I thought. Some interesting stuff, and some things that I never want to try. I have to say, humans can be pretty weird sometimes-“  
Dean interrupts the angel: “Cas, you’re stalling. Just tell me what it is, I won’t judge, remember?”  
Cas sighs and looks at the table: “I might have gotten interested in terms of… control while being intimate.” He quickly eyes Dean, who knows his face is starting to burn bright red but doesn’t stop Cas from talking. “There were some moments where you seemed to be… excited at the thought of me... Um, telling you what to do?”  
Cas phrases it as a question, but this time Dean is the one to ignore it. His heartrate has at least doubled in the last seconds and he has to swallow, his mind racing. He wonders how he hadn’t thought of that earlier, since it had come up before. Never in an actual conversation, but traces here and there. His voice is an octave higher than he would admit when he asks: “You have become interested?”  
Cas is still staring at the table: “Yeah. But I need to know if you are, too, or if I read that wrong. I still have trouble reading humans sometimes.”  
Dean closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. Deep down he knows what his answer should be, but it is buried beneath a thick layer of “manliness” and masculinity. He remembers it, Cas’ hand over his mouth and the angel telling him not to talk. The thought alone sets off fireworks in his stomach. And now Cas is asking if they should do more stuff like that. He has actually researched, prepared for the possibility that Dean agrees. He clears his throat.  
All he has to do is admit that he likes being bossed around in bed.  
It feels like he has to climb Mount Everest.  
He can hear Cas shift in his chair, and it has Dean open his eyes. He should have done that sooner, he realizes, because the view of his boyfriend squirming in his seat, eyes wide and cheeks red, makes it so much easier. Because now he can see: Cas is waiting at the top of the mountain.  
His voice is weak and barely audible as he speaks, but he leaves it to Cas’ superhuman hearing to still pick up on it: “I… no. You didn’t. Get it wrong, I mean.”  
It looks like Cas is releasing a breath that he had held in for the whole time and his facial features relax. Dean can even see the hint of a smile play around the corners of his mouth. His voice is soft and excited when he speaks: “I’m glad to hear that. Should we… lay out some rules?”  
Dean swallows. He wants to agree, but something different is nagging at his thoughts. He burst it out before he thinks it through: “What interests you in it?” Cas looks away again, and just to be polite Dean adds “If you don’t mind me asking.”  
It seems to help the mood, since Cas meets his eyes again and one side of his mouth is curled upwards: “Of course I don’t. I… I have given this a lot of thought, since being intimate is about being equals and on eye level. One person taking control and deciding what to do does appear counter-intuitive.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Cas’ choice of words, but the latter is too deep in thought to notice it. “I think I came to the conclusion that it has to do with trust. That I would feel honored if you decide to place your trust in me. In my life I have often not been in control or failed when I was. I think that plays a part in the desire as well. To be trusted and make something good out of it.”  
Cas’ looks calmer by the time he finishes and Dean nods at his elaborate explanation. He feels good about the fact that Cas didn’t just say he likes it when people obey him.  
“I have to ask,” Cas adds after a second, “What is it for you?”  
“Man…” Dean winces and eyes the exit, “I know it… that…” He rubs the back of his neck, lost for words and turning dark red. “It’s not a manly thing to-“  
A hand squeezing his knee interrupts him. Cas’ voice is quiet, but determined.  
“Look at me, Dean.” He instructs and Dean finds his eyes. They radiate a calmness that Cas apparently has picked up after explaining himself to Dean and being accepted.  
“I’m not going to judge you. I already know, I just want to understand. It’ll be better if I know what does it for you.”  
Dean has to chuckle, because Cas’ research must have had included the phrase “to do it for somebody”, since he definitely hadn’t picked it up from Dean. Cas’ words and the amusement have him calm down slightly, and he tries to think of an answer. He has spent a lot of time purposefully ignore the fact that he likes to submit to people and less time trying to understand it. But now that he thinks about it, it becomes clear a lot quicker. That Cas had explained himself first might also have contributed to it.  
“I…” Dean looks up, and Cas’ eyes are attentively resting on him, “Yeah, trust. You know, maybe I had to be in charge too much growing up, and I just like giving up the need to decide anything. I like the thought of having someone I trust decide for me. And make them feel really good in return. I guess. Jumping over my shadow, doing things for somebody. Proofing my affection.”  
Cas nods, just like Dean had done. And the hunter feels like a door has opened up in him, a new way to connect and be part of one another. He is unable to stop the smile spread across his face as he asks: “So, rules. What were you thinking of?”  
“Right,” Cas straightens up like he is about to go over an insurance contract with him, “um, maybe the color system to let me know if you’re okay with what we are doing? Like, green means go ahead, yellow means proceed with caution, and red means stop immediately?”  
Dean nods enthusiastically, he has heard that before and is grateful Cas has though ahead. Cas looks relived at his enthusiasm.  
“And… I wanted to know if there is anything… something you want to exclude from the start, just in case I might come up with anything… wrong. Something you don’t like, that I should avoid, mistakes I could make.”  
The angel looks away and Dean can catch a short glimpse of Cas, the fallen angel. The one that has been made to feel that everything he touches turns out wrong, that he doesn’t do anything right, that he is a failure. It hurts Dean to see Cas like that, afraid to fail, scared to disappoint again. The hunter slides from his chair and crouches in front of Cas, taking the man’s hands in his.  
“Cas,” he says softly, waiting until the angel looks at him. “I trust you. And if I’m uncomfortable with something, I will let you know, just like I trust you to tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable.” The angel furrows his brows as if he is unable to think Dean could manage to make him uncomfortable. “And just so you know, you don’t always have to be in charge. We’ll still have, you know, normal sex, where you don’t have to think for the two of us. But I always trust you, okay?”  
Instead of answering, Cas grabs him by his arms and hauls him to his lap, clashing their lips together. After the first second of surprise, Dean melts into the warmth of Cas’ lips and his hand wanders over his chest, pulling at his tie and buttons. He might be a little bit impatient, but Cas had let him wait all morning. Cas’ tongue is licking along his lower lip and Dean moans quietly, parting his lips further and meeting Cas’ tongue with his own. The angel is quiet, even for his standards. Deans fingers tug at the tie and manage to get it to loosen when strong fingers curl around his wrists and render him unable to continue undressing Cas. Dean gasps quietly, but the angel is still kissing Dean as if nothing happened; so he makes sure to kiss the angel back equally as enthusiastic. When they break apart eventually, Dean is out of breath, cheeks bright red and lips swollen. Cas on the other hand still looks calm and collected. He leans back far enough to be out of reach for Dean, since his hands are still held in place by Cas. The angel’s gaze wanders to his parted lips and back up to his eyes. Dean’s eyes are glued to the wet shine on Cas’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. When he looks at Cas, he notices the hint of a smile as the angel is watching him, obviously amused by his longing stare. Dean wants to make a snarky comment, or maybe even a grumpy one, but the dark glint in Cas’ eyes has him keep his mouth shut. He is rewarded by Cas leaning in again and closing the gap between their lips, their kiss quickly getting messier and more urgent. Just to test the limits he pushes against Cas’ holds on his wrists, but of course they don’t give way. Instead, the fingers squeeze his hands in an almost warning manner, and the angel doesn’t have to say a word to make Dean understand.  
Even though he is gasping for air when Cas’ mouth leaves his, Dean feels like it is too soon. The feeling of the angel’s lips wandering down his jaw and neck make up for the loss, though. Just short of the collar of his shirt Cas stops, placing multiple, short kisses to his skin before he looks up at Dean. The latter is trying to control his breathing but failing, still sounding out of breath. Blood pools in his cheeks.  
Cas looks at him with hooded eyes when he explains: “I will suck a mark on you, Dean, to show everybody that you are mine and mine only. But I will leave you the choice to either let me mark you like this, or undress right now and have me place it somewhere you can cover it up. So, decide.”  
As soon as he is finished talking he ducks back down and licks Dean’s neck, and without even thinking about it the hunter drops his head back to give him better access. Somewhere in his brain the words slowly register, foggy between the sound of Cas’ voice and actions.  
“I…” Dean starts, but fails to finish his train of thought. Cas hums against his collar bone, still only exploring the skin with his tongue. The vibration travels through his body and has him struggle to remember the question.  
“Undressing first,” the hunter gasps, fighting the urge to just close his eyes and let Cas do whatever he wants. But if they find a case in the next couple of days, he doesn’t want to have a hickey to go with his FBI badge.  
The angel immediately draws back and the fingers around his wrists disappear. “Okay,” he nods and expectantly looks at Dean. The hunter just sits in his lap for a moment, struggling to regain control of his body. As he nervously reaches for the collar of his shirt the long fingers are back, stopping his hands in their progress. Confused Dean raises his gaze to meet Cas’ deep blue eyes.  
“No,” Cas comments calmly, “I want you to stand up. Undress for me, Dean, completely.”  
Dean can feel his face turning darker. Cas wants him to strip? He hadn’t expected that, this far they hadn’t really made a show of undressing. But yeah, Dean can do that. He hadn’t really dressed to leave the house either, so there isn’t much to get rid of.  
He climbs off of Cas’ lap just slightly disgraceful and takes a couple of steps back. It has been a while since he has undressed for someone, but this can’t be too hard, right? He decides on effective, but nice, and grabs the bottom of his shirt. He tugs his over his head slowly, and he can feel Cas’ look on his skin even when his eyes are covered by the shirt. He meets Cas’ gaze when he drops the shirt to the floor and swallows at the expression of lust and hunger on the angel’s face. His eyes are dark, the pupils have nearly swallowed the blue of his irises. The smile on his lips is crooked, just enough to give him a sly radiance. Dean only realizes that he has frozen, staring at the angel, when Cas’ gravelly voice calls him out:  
“Go on, Dean.”  
A shiver runs down his spine and can’t help the small smile forming on his face. He turns sideways as he pushes his pants down, leaving his boxers hanging on his hips. He keeps his knees straight, presenting Cas his butt. The stare from Cas feels like it is burning his skin and he bites his cheek as he continues. When he steps out of the pants, he quickly gets rid of his socks while he is at it, because as far as he knows, there is no way to take off your socks in a sexy way. Unless if you are into feet, maybe, but he isn’t interested right now.  
When he turns back his half hard dick is pushing against the fabric of his boxers, and Cas’ eyes immediately focus right there. It gives him goosebumps, as does the fact that Cas’ lips are parted and there is a shimmer of red on his cheeks. Cas is affected by him showing skin, and that has him aroused even more.  
Dean hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and drags them down; he watches Cas follow his movements. The elastic catches on his hardening dick, and Dean notices how his own breath is irregular and shallow. How the heck did he get this turned on from undressing himself?  
He kicks his boxers to the side, suddenly aware of the sharp contrast between himself, completely naked, and Cas, who is still dressed all the way.  
The angel’s voice is hoarse when he instructs: “Sit back down.”  
Dean climbs back onto Cas’ lap, painfully aware of how he is presenting his arousal with his legs on either side of Cas’. What keeps him from feeling too exposed is the obvious outline in Cas’ pants, and he has to fight the urge to get closer and grind against it. If Cas would want him to do that, he would tell him.  
“Head back,” the angel whispers, and Dean closes his eyes as he obeys. The instant sensation of Cas’ lips on his skin is a welcome relief of the tension from him stripping, and he can’t help but moan quietly. The angel’s hands support his back effortlessly and his mouth wanders down the line of his pulse, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When he reaches Dean’s shoulder he follows his collar bone until he is down away from potential exposed skin, before the angel starts to suck. The feeling has Dean gasp and his hands fly up and tangle into the angel’s hair, only to have Cas instantly look up at him. His eyebrows are raised and his gaze is disapproving, his voice stern: “Hands behind your back, Dean. I don’t want you to touch me, I just want you to feel.”  
The muttered “sorry” is barely audible and his voice breaks after the first syllable, but Dean couldn’t care less when Cas’ mouth finds the spot on his shoulder again. Just to be safe Dean actually puts his own hands behind his back, squirming on the rough material of Cas’ suit as the angel sucks a hickey into his skin.  
Cas takes his time, testing Dean’s patience to its limits. Dean balls his fists, just to do something. As Cas’ lips are finally replaced by his tongue licking the dark bruise that is forming, Dean is panting even though he had just sat there. The angel eyes the mark for a while and is seemingly pleased.  
Only seconds later he presses his lips to Dean’s, and within seconds they are kissing deep and sloppily, all wet and noisy. Cas tangles a hand in Dean’s hair, just hard enough to make the hunter gasp and curse before their mouths clash back together. Dean moves closer, intended to grind against Cas’ erection, rub against the fabric of his suit, anything to give him relive, but a firm hand on his hip has him unable to move before he is remotely close enough. Dean groans in frustration into Cas’ mouth, somewhere on the edge between pleasure and impatience, and Cas asks:  
“Color?”  
“Green,” Dean is quick to answer, “if you would just get to it…”  
Cas puts enough distance between them to look at Dean with raised eyebrows: “Don’t get cheeky.”  
Dean’s dick twitches as he instinctively asks: “Or else?”  
The angel’s eyebrows pull together and for a second, his eyes flash with his grace as he growls: “Do you want to find out?”  
Dean’s breath hitches as he takes a second to consider. He is tempted to see what Cas would do if he… misbehaved. On the other hand, he does want to see what he has planed for right now. Still looking Cas into the eyes he whispers: “I’ll be good.”  
“I’m happy to hear that.”  
Dean is taken by surprise when Cas suddenly stands up, pulling him with him in the process. The hunter finds himself between Cas’ body and the tabletop pressing into the back of his thighs. Before he can process what happened, the angel kisses him again, and with a sigh he gives into Cas’ control. The angel’s hands are wandering over his body, squeezing his butt, rolling a nipple, stroking the feathers of his wings, extracting all kinds of noises from Dean. He aches to touch Cas himself, tangle his fingers in his hair and pull him closer, but he has learned his lesson for today, so his hands just rest on the tabletop.  
Way too soon Cas pulls back, and Dean catches a glimpse of pure hunger in his eyes before, again, Cas moves Dean’s body with superhuman strength. Hands on Dean’s hips he turns him around, and the hunter is facing away from Cas, his butt pressed against the angel’s crotch. Dean’s instinct is to rock back, rub against the bulge in Cas’ pants, but the hands on his hips don’t allow him.  
“Arms on the table,” the angel quietly instructs him. Dean places his hands on the wood, biting his lips. A big hand appears between his shoulder blades and pushes him down further, and Dean gasps before he bows down until his lower arms rest on the table. He feels his dick pressing hot against his stomach, precum oozing out and smearing over his skin.  
He closes his eyes and is suddenly painfully aware of the position he is in, naked and bowed over a table while Cas is standing behind him, completely clothed. Something tugs on his guts.  
The hand on his back stays, but no longer pushes, just a touch between the two of them. Cas’ voice is collected when he asks:  
“Color?”  
Dean takes a moment to collect himself, too, and to have it be true as he answers: “Green.”  
Cas hums and the hand between his shoulders rubs his back. “Don’t move,” the angel instructs before the body against his lower half is suddenly gone. Dean can hear movement and the shuffling of fabric, but he doesn’t move or look. A moment later two hands find his hips and Cas leans down, placing kisses on his back. As kisses upwards, Dean is finally able to feel the angel’s naked dick press against his ass, and the feeling alone has him moan. Cas is still taking his sweet time, so Dean decides to try and push a button he knows of that doesn’t break the rules Cas has given him.  
‘Cas,’ he prays with his eyes closed, ‘please.’  
The angel gasps and freezes in his motion, and Dean thinks he might have caught him off guard. A hand grabs his hair and pulls up his head, and Dean’s cock twitches against his stomach. Cas presses him against his hot skin and growls into his ear, his words emphasized by small thrusts of his pelvis against Dean’s ass: “Do it again, Dean.”  
The hunter yelps and just hangs on, forming more words in his mind: ‘Please, Cas, please.’ He is aware that he is begging, but Cas’ dick rubbing against his bare ass is making it impossible for him to form any kind of coherent thought.  
“What, Dean?” The angel growls, a hand wandering down Dean’s chest and over his stomach, “What do you want?”  
The hunter moans, rutting back against Cas’ thrusts. ‘More,’ he asks silently, ‘You, Cas’.  
The angel seems to lose sight of the plan he has had, distracted by the heat of the moment.  
“Choice,” he tells Dean, apparently to impatient to formulate a whole sentence, “Want me to keep it like this and touch you or use my grace to prepare you?” He whispers into Dean’s ear: “I won’t be able to wait long enough to do it the regular way.”  
Dean thinks he will go crazy, feeling close to coming without even being touched. He always tells Cas not to waste his grace, but right now he couldn’t care less. All he can think about is the urge to feel Cas, now and more and everywhere. “Grace,” he groans, “definitely grace.”  
“Good choice,” Cas mutters, and if it wasn’t for Cas’ hands on his body Dean would have dropped straight down to the table. A surge of cold, familiar power washes through him and Cas carefully lets go of him, leaving him to the strength of his own arms. A foot taps against his leg and he moves them further apart, feeling Cas’ hands massage his ass cheeks.  
“Are you certain?” Cas asks, because of course, even if he is in charge he always looks out for Dean.  
“Yes!” The hunter tells him and drops his forehead onto his hands. He feels Cas spread his ass cheeks, and for a second his panics, being scared he might get hurt, but a hand on his lower back has him calm right down.  
The slick, hot head of Cas’ cock touches his hole and Dean moans, wanting to rock back but being again stopped by Cas’ hand. The angel hesitates, and before he can ask Dean prays: ‘Yes Cas, please. Do it.’ He presses his eyes shut. ‘Fuck me.’  
Cas moans and presses in, slipping right past the ring of muscles that is smoothly giving way. It doesn’t take long for Cas to bottom out, and both of them are moaning. Again Dean pushes back, and either Cas has decided to let him or is too submerged in the moment, because the hunter is able to rock back to meet every one of Cas’ thrusts. Cas’ hands grab his hair again, not forcing him to move but just holding it tightly, the right amount of pain to have Dean groan in pleasure. His other hand moves down his stomach and this time the angel doesn’t stop, closing his long fingers around Dean’s shaft and stroking in the rhythm of his thrusts.  
“Come on, Dean,” he tells the hunter, voice strained, “be good for me.”  
‘Yes,’ Dean answers silently, ‘yes, I am good for you. I am.’  
Cas groans deeply and tangles a hand in Dean’s wing. He pushes hard enough that Dean’s thighs are pressed against the edge of the table, and the hunter is certain he will bruise there, too. No way is he going to complain, though.  
Dean yelps when Cas changes the angel at which he is thrusting into Dean’s ass, and suddenly lightning shoots through his body. The angel keeps the exact position and Dean is squirming beneath him, his prostate being stimulated and hurling him closer to coming. He is dangerously close already, even though they have just started. That seems to be a common occurrence with the two of them.  
‘Cas,’ he prays, wondering if his prayer sounds as breathless as he is, ‘I can’t hold on much longer.’  
Cas moans and twists his wrist, pressing his dick quicker into Dean’s ass, and only seconds later he throws Dean over the edge, the hunter shooting cum over Cas’ hands and the table. His mind is filled with a long pulled scream of the angel’s name, and he hopes Cas can hear it. When he has caught his breath, Cas grabs Dean by the hips, thrusting quicker and chasing his own orgasm. Dean braces himself on his arms and moans.  
‘Fuck, Cas. Show me I’m yours.’  
Cas yells Dean’s name and thrusts again, burring himself deep in Dean’s ass as he comes. Dean shivers as he feels Cas shake after his orgasm, quiet moans escaping him. For a moment, neither of them move, the noise of their breath the only thing between them. In the end, Cas pulls away, and Dean is unable to protest against the wave of cold that has all the cum disappear.  
“Dean,” Cas whispers as he pulls the hunter back into his lap on the chair, his eyes shining bright and a soft smile on his lips. Dean smiles back and runs a hand through Cas’ hair.  
The kiss they share is soft, no longer urgent or messy. Their lips move together slowly, Cas’ hands stroking Dean’s back. The hunter cups Cas’ jaw, his thumb running over the stubble on his cheek. The angel quietly sighs into Dean, sounding content and calm. Dean moves to kiss Cas’ neck, placing kisses similar to the ones Cas had done before, as he feels Cas’ hand wander to the bruise on his collar bone.  
For a moment, the angel just looks at it, and then he asks: “Do you want me to heal it?”  
Dean nearly moves back fast enough that it could be called jumping and searches Cas’ eyes for a reason why he would ask that. A flash of insecurity shoots across the angel’s eyes and hints Dean what the angel might be thinking.  
“No, Cas, I don’t. I like that you want me yours. And I didn’t just say that because I wanted sex.” He kisses Cas on the cheek. “Dummy.”  
Cas smiles and rubs Dean’s side. “Thank you.”  
“No, no, no,” Dean is quick to protest, “we will not start saying thank you for having sex. Now come on, I need a shower, and I’m taking you with me to touch you everywhere I wasn’t allowed before.”  
Cas rolls his eyes, but smiles.  
“Lead the way, Dean.”


End file.
